


Reflections

by angel_of_broadway



Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Pre-Canon, furniture as a plot device, mythology gets a little skewed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-14
Updated: 2018-01-14
Packaged: 2019-03-04 19:57:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,468
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13371990
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angel_of_broadway/pseuds/angel_of_broadway
Summary: Scenes played out in front of Lucio's favorite bedroom mirror.





	Reflections

**Author's Note:**

> It's weird, this one got a lot longer than I intended, and I even left out a snippet about them doing the do in front of the mirror? I dunno. Anyway, second day of Lucio week! As always, CONSTRUCTIVE critique is welcome.
> 
> also i have no idea how to make line breaks work, so if anyone could tell me, that would be awesome

Pride, Lucio had heard many times, was one of his greater sins. Perhaps that's what had driven him to buy the ridiculous mirror, just because he could. Nearly twice his height, set in elaborately-carved wood painted bright gold, it really had been an impulsive purchase just to spite Nadia's saying it was totally unnecessary. There was a perfectly serviceable mirror in his bathroom, several hand mirrors he could have had access to – the ballroom had giant mirrors on nearly every damn wall. The thing really was ridiculous, and made the bedroom far too bright by reflecting every last light, but he'd be damned to ever have the thing thrown out and admit he was wrong about it.

Seeing Cora Bahr standing in front of the mirror was something entirely unsettling. She'd come back from a week-long hunt in the thickest forests surrounding the city, and it showed in her mud-caked boots and dirt-streaked hair. He was fairly certain there were even leaves stuck in the tangle of her hair. Perhaps he should have let her return home first to wash up, but after she'd taken three days to return to the palace, he'd lost patience and ordered the guards to meet her at the city gates and escort her straight to his chambers.

Nevertheless, here the hunter was, wild as the mountainous country she hailed from. And fascinated with the mirror, it would seem, as she'd been watching herself long enough to miss him walking in from the study. It was odd, seeing her watch her own reflection so intently, as she didn't seem the type of woman to be so concerned over her appearance.

“I'm sure the kitchen staff will be pleased to have that elk broken down. We haven't had venison in some time, and the cook says they have a new recipe to try,” he said finally break the silence, shuffling through the paperwork in his hands. “Your timing is impeccable, Miss Bahr. As we discussed, your payment. You'll just have to sign the contract.”

When she didn't immediately respond with a comment about dispensable coffers, he looked up from their contract with a scowl. He'd strangely almost come to enjoy her flurry of insults – she had a knack for viciousness, their last meeting involving showing off a knife she'd bought with her pay. No, the huntress truly had her attention focused on the glass, an indecipherable expression on her lean face.

But he had other things to worry about than whatever thoughts were plaguing his new hunstwoman. Clearing his throat to gain her attention, he said again, “Miss Bahr. Your payment?”

Cora's face didn't change as she turned from the glass, thick eyebrows drawn together in consternation. “I heard you the first time. I know, I have to sign your thing. Just give me your fancy quill so I can go home and find my own dinner.”

 

“You know you shouldn't poke at Valerius like that. He already dislikes my keeping you around.”

“If he wants to call me a witch, I'll give him a reason to. Anything less would just be out of character.” Cora met Lucio's chastising gaze in the mirror for a long moment, her shoulders drooping as she sighed heavily. She was too mentally drained to keep up the act. “I told you it was a bad idea taking me into your meetings. I'm not good at diplomacy, and trying to make nice with your toadies is just pointless. It's damn obvious they all think I'm no better than yesterday's trash.”

In the short time he'd know the huntress, he'd never seen her in such a self-deprecating state. What a wonder, that she'd become upset over some imagined failing at politicking. If she really knew how intimidating that stormy glare of her could be, she wouldn't let a few pompous sycophants ruin her nerve.

Boot heels clicking against the floor, he came up behind her, watching Cora's expression in the mirror. When she didn't immediately flinch away, he took her chin carefully between his fingers, tilting her head back up so their eyes met in the glass.

“Do you not know what a powerhouse you could be, my dear?” he said in a quiet, confidential tone. “You said it yourself, you can see right all the hot air they blow out, and they're terrified. Haven't you seen the way Vlastomil squirms when you talk? It's because you're one of the people they make their rules and laws for; you're actually able to speak for the common folk. That's why they'll bring up things they know you can't possibly comment on, so they can puff themselves up.”

With the boots he'd worn to court, he could almost see over top her head. On a strange whim, he pressed a kiss to her temple. “If you'll trust me, I can teach you how to talk with these blowhards and keep your cool.”

She scoffed at his claim, reaching down to take his free hand. “You can't even do that. How do you expect me to do so?” She still sounded worn-out, but the insult was a welcome mood change.

“Simple. We go talk to my wife. She has creative ways of calling them nasty things without them noticing.”

That was enough to have Cora snorting with laughter, an ungodly sound that pulled a grin to his face. Maybe Valerius was right about her being a witch; the effect she'd had on him was spell-binding.

 

It was almost like she wanted to be noticed, Lucio decided, after hearing Cora swear under her breath yet again. Craning his head to peer through the open door, he saw her standing in front of the mirror with a scowl, twisting a swath of fabric about herself. So, she was obviously still thinking about having joined Nadia's fitting with the seamstress.

“You know,” he called out, smirking when she jumped in shock, “if you'd like my opinion on something, all you have to do is ask.”

“I don't want your opinion on anything,” she snapped, though it was lacking the usual heat.”

If he was being honest with himself, there was something like pain in her voice. Deciding not to question the rise of concern in his gut, he slid his paperwork to the side and made his way into the bedroom. The sight of her toned calves peeking from under her dressing robe was a momentary distraction, enough that he barely dodged the fabric thrown at his head.

“Weren't you busy with something? Go back to your trading plans, you're not needed out here.”

Gathering up the pale silk, he draped it over her shoulder, twirling a lock of hair around his finger. “I'm starting to think otherwise. It's rather difficult to get anything done, with all the noise you're making out here. And they're agricultural plans, if we're being specific.”

Cora didn't respond, shrugging his arm away and letting the fabric slide to the floor. Now he knew something was bothering her. With a hand on each shoulder, he turned her around to meet his eyes.

“This may be a stretch, but it seems to me that things didn't go quite so well at the fitting. Are you going to tell me, or should I ask Nadia about it?” he asked, entirely serious in his threat. Reticent as the young woman could be, he would most certainly resort to asking his wife for the truth, if anything had occurred.

“Nothing happened – don't get all worked up. It's just... I didn't really...” She broke off with a sigh, pushing his hands away. “Your wife is beautiful.”

Lucio blinked, taken aback by her remark. “I...suppose she is, yes. Is this your way of trying to tell me something?” The two women had become close, but he hadn't thought to that level.

“What? Ugh, no. Of course your mind immediately goes there. No, it's... I got to see the outfit she has planned for the masquerade. I don't think she could look bad in anything.” Cora was quiet as she went on, obviously hesitant and unsure how to voice her concerns. “She says everything perfectly and she's never had to hunt for food, and it's... I mean, that's who she is.”

Ah, there was the problem. For some wild reason, she'd started comparing herself to the noble-born Countess, when they'd had entirely different upbringings and teachings. Time for some clever thinking, before Cora really went off degrading herself.

“Did you know,” Lucio started, retrieving the fabric from the floor, “there's a country to the east where they worship a goddess who hunts with a bow? She reigns over beasts and all things wild.” He draped the silk across the front of her shoulders, in the way he remembered the women there dressing. “She lives in the forest as well.”

Though there was still a deep frown on her face, her eyes darted up to his. “You're just trying to stop me from moping. That sounds like a fairy story.”

He held up his hands in surrender. “On my honor, I'm telling the truth. Although, she's initially a goddess of the moon and night sky. With a crown of stars about her tangled hair.”

“A...crown of stars,” she repeated, her eyes widening as the words sunk in.

And there he had her.

“Silver like her arrowheads,” he purred. Time to really seal the deal. “Unless I've heard wrong, you haven't yet had an outfit of your own planned for the masquerade? I can guarantee you'd be the only one there in such an ensemble.”

“I think you might be right.” Turning to inspect the silky fabric in the mirror, twisting it to sparkle in the light, she responded in typical fashion, “For once.”

 

The bedroom was bright as ever, candles burning hot to keep the room warm. Lucio felt none of it, though, fever wracking his body. He stared blankly at the far wall, the reflection unfocused through his tired gaze. Dripping with sweat, eyes red and bleary, week-old stubble gracing his sallow skin, it was dismally clear that the Count had fallen prey to the sickness plaguing the city. In his drugged haze, he saw none of the finery of his chambers, barely felt the wooden bed frame digging into his back as he saw on the floor. He could have sat there all day, stewing in delirium and exhaustion, had there not been a knock on the door.

“Your Grace, are you awake?” came Valerius' voice after a minute with no response. “There is...news from the magician.”

Answering took too much energy, but Lucio managed to call out for the consul to enter in a hoarse voice. He hadn't heard anything from the strange magician in more than a week, and Cora had gone with him to lend her skill with herbs and potions. Though he could barely muster the energy to watch as Valerius entered, he was far more concerned in hearing anything from his paramour.

Impeccably dressed as always, the consul entered quietly, and Lucio couldn't help longing for that appearance of perfection. Though Valerius had sounded all business-like at the door, he wouldn't look at the Count, and his shoulders were tight. Not good news, if his reaction was this obvious, and Lucio's gut promptly dropped through the floor.

“We've received news from the magician Asra that several more people have fallen ill and succumbed to the plague. It appears to be spreading at an incomprehensible rate, with no clear cause of transmission.” Stopping to adjust his collar in the room's heat, his sharp eyes finally landed on Lucio, and his stern tone faltered. “It is...also my unfortunate duty to inform you of Miss Bahr's passing. It seems she took ill while trying to cure some of the afflicted.”

Quiet settled over them, only broken by a faint metallic clicking. At that moment, it was as if the world had shrunk to a bubble around the room, neither of them willing to pop the uneasy silence. Lucio looked away from the other man, focusing instead on the delicate silver tiara in his grasp.

“I see. That is unfortunate,” he finally said, twisting the circlet back and forth. Tiny diamonds embedded in the metal stars caught the candlelight and sparkled brightly. “Has the Countess been told yet?”

“She was the next one to know, sir. Will there be any arrangements made, regarding her family?”

Her family? Oh, yes, far to the north, surrounded by thick forests and towering mountain ranges. A hardy people, she'd told him one night, who thought of death not as an ending, but as a chance to start over, guiding their surviving family from the heavens. Perhaps she'd been making one of her snarky remarks at the time, saying that even he would come back with a clean slate.

“Let the magician know, if he doesn't already. She said he travels often; he can take care of it, if he wishes.” It took him until then to realize that he didn't even know which family members her personal items would be returned to. “If there's nothing else...”

“Nothing, Your Grace. I'll relay news to the Countess.” Valerius inclined his head in a bow and turned for the door. He only glanced back briefly, mouth open as if to speak, but he shook his head and closed the door behind him.

Well. There Lucio was left, alone with the silver crown in his hands. Just like she'd said when their odd relationship began: a brief, meaningless distraction – nothing else. It would certainly be a loss of a fine hunter, but at least now he could focus on the magician and doctor flouncing about his palace, working on a cure. Yes, things could finally get back to the way they should be.

Gathering up the strength to stand, Lucio carefully pushed himself to his feet, grimacing at the sight of his reflection. He'd seen much better days, that went without saying. Maybe strapping on some of the fine golden armor would at least help his spirit. Pale as he'd become in his sickness, it was still his color. 

Not hers, though.

A painful stabbing in his hand drew his attention down. Clutched tightly in his flesh hand was the crown, lovely and deceptively innocent. He'd never had the chance to place it atop her dark curls. With a sudden burst of rage, Lucio gripped the crown tight and chucked it at the mirror, shattering his sickly reflection into thousands of pieces. Sinking back to the floor with his strength gone, he realized dimly that the tiara's diamonds had been forced out on impact, scattered across the floor among the shards of glass. 

“A crown of stars indeed,” he laughed bitterly, finally letting the hot tears roll down his face.


End file.
